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The Waterfall Swan
(This story was posted by Muse on the Utopia Skye forums on February 28, 2006.) ---- The candlelight danced a dance of light creating shadows that leapt along the wall like little demons jumping at the shadows. The small structure had many grooves and dips in its stone surface where the light wouldn’t even reach to touch. Thankfully, the small room allowed what little light the melting candles had to illuminate the area, even if just softly. What it revealed was an empty room, devoid of most comforts of life other than necessities. A simple bed, nightstand, and chair were all that the tiny room contained...well that and the paladin. Sitting on the bed, Caliope looked into the mirror willing her reflection to turn into that of the strong warrior she knew she could be, instead of the weak defenseless child she saw now. Leering back at her the image nearly laughed aloud as it whispered the words that turned her heart cold… “Coward!” Caliope stood up and began pacing reasoning with her better than more juries reason with the guilty criminal’s verdict in a trial of life or death. Tossing the rationalizations back and forth, as easily as if they were juggling balls caught with the ease of a well practiced joker. “I cannot protect them” she spoke aloud, arguing again with her image as she stopped and stared at it again. The mirror revealed that of the beautiful paladin whose youth was not yet marred with scars of age even through these trials she suffered. Her skin seemed to glow in the candlelight and her hair shown jet black like the wings of a raven, but her eyes had the hollow haunted look of the pursued in them. It was those green eyes, the deep pools of fear that faced her back that she tried to vanquish. She began pacing again realizing that to argue with one’s own image would be considered by some the act of someone on the brink of madness. Madness, Caliope reasoned sets in without activity. When the mind becomes idle and the hands nothing to grasp, then surely that is when madness seeps in uninvited. She was surely not mad for she had been doing nothing but remaining active. She had been running for what seemed endless days trying to avoid the evil known only as “Agas”. Through several close encounters with this undead mage, it had become clearer that what Agas wanted was not so much the death of Caliope, but the light that she carried. This deduction had come easily to her as if whispered in her ear by a confidant as opposed to the stirrings of madness she had begun to embrace just a few weeks ago. She had run then aimlessly and somehow found herself in this little hut on the outskirts of Teldrassil in the elven lands. Here in this uninhabited hut with monsters outside her door in the form of undead evils, the paladin of light, warrior of valiant heart had taken a slow dive down the madness waterfall. “I have failed all of them” she spoke whispering to herself as she began to wring her hands together. She had failed her father, her mother, the knights of skye, everyone. The weight of her failure bore down on her crushing her heart and pinching her throat so that when the tears came, and they did… the only noise she made was the high pitched whine of breathe seeking escape, fear seeking a home, a soul seeking peace. She turned to the mirror again as one of the two candles she had lit specifically to light her room snuffed itself out having burned down to its bottom. The wind outside picked up momentum shaking the wooden slats that were called shutters, making them rattle like the sound of bones being tossed in a prophetic dream. She faced the mirror again seeing the tears running down the cheeks that her father had loved. “I must save them…” Her reflection merely stared back at her offering no comfort but almost imperceptibly offering a small nod... “Yes, you must” her mind spoke back to her. Had she been with her wits about her, she might have been able to deduce the spell that had been cast; the mirage of imagery that had been able to tell the lie to the haunted and change the course of destiny. A sudden burst of clarity shot through her madness giving Caliope a ray of hope to which she grabbed onto as if it were the last shred of fabric in a reality she didn’t belong. “I know what I must do”. Not waiting for the telltale nod of her reflection, Caliope turned around and slowly removed her tabard. The blue and gold material along with the golden crest picked up the light from the flame of the remaining candle and glowed momentarily almost stopping her in her tracks, a moment of sanity threatening to break in. She was aware for one second that there was a distant tugging on her mind, and a whisper that followed. “Wake up Caliope”. The whisper disappeared in the recurring howling of the wind rattling their death bones at her shutters. And with a shake of her head, madness seeped back in and she smiled slightly as she folded the tabard with care allowing the crest to show at the top. Softly humming a tune she had heard the local minstrel play on her way in to Teldrasil, Caliope removed next her true silver chest plate. Running her fingers along the metals dents and scratches she could see each battle, each moment in her relentless journey of the light as if it were right in the present at her side. Unbuckling her belt and removing her plate mail leggings she laid these out as well the belt on the bed, the boots on the floor. She removed each piece ceremoniously as if performing a ritual of letting go. When she finally stood in the darkened room and just as the last candle winked out an unknown wind dousing its flame, Caliope donned her dress of black as she whispered into the waiting darkness’s embrace, “Please remember me…” To be continued… Category:Warcraft Skye RP